


Jane's Route

by Atapuax



Category: Homestuck, Pesterquest - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Baking, Baking Instructions, Betty Crocker - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Canon-typical Cursing, Fix-It, Pesterquest, Pesterquest Spoilers, Preemptive Fix-It, Technically?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atapuax/pseuds/Atapuax
Summary: You are an intrepid, friend-seeking person of indeterminate species who goes on a quest of the utmost importance to befriend a Washingtonian lass with a proclivity for baking and sleuthery.This is a fan-Pesterquest Route for Jane Crocker. It was mostly written before her actual route was released.
Relationships: Jake English & Dirk Strider, Jake English & Roxy Lalonde, Jane Crocker & Dirk Strider, Jane Crocker & Jake English, Jane Crocker & Jake English & Roxy Lalonde & Dirk Strider, Jane Crocker & Roxy Lalonde, Roxy Lalonde & Dirk Strider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the full experience, please click the links at the bottom of each chapter rather than clicking the "next chapter" button. Enjoy!

For the first time since you acquired your zapping powers, you are at a loss for where to go next.

You feel as though you have befriended every plot-relevant troll here on Alternia. Though you yearn to go back and find some of your old Alternian friends, you are unable. Where can you go at this point? You have a feeling you ought to go back to Earth and check in on John and the gang. But would that really be a good use of your time? You do that frequently anyway, making sure they are all hanging out as much or as little as they want. What makes now so special?

You decide to do as your gut tells you. You zap yourself to John's ole abode.

The feeling of transdimensional travel is different this time, however. You feel like the trip is longer, though intuitively you know it always happens instantaneously. Still, you feel like maybe you traveled further this time? Maybe you took a wrong turn and wound up somewhere completely unlike your expected destination. It's happened before.

But not this time, you guess. You look around and the scenery is pretty much what you expected. Every house does look the same in suburbia, though, so maybe you are in the wrong place. Immediately upon arrival, you notice the scenery is slightly off. Since you met John, you've been visiting him around the ides of April. Here, though, it's the middle of fall. All of the surrounding houses are adorned with piles of dead leaves above which reside dead-looking trees. The house you're right in front of, however, doesn't have any dead leaves. A really responsible homemaker must live here, you think. That, or an intrepid chore-doing kid.

This HAS to be John's house though, right? It looks basically the same. Same exterior, same tree with the same tire swing, same mailbox, same gaping hole in the wall with adjacent fridge on the ground. Where else could you be? Look! you even see his dad right over there.

Oh fuck. John's dad is RIGHT there! Act cool. You don't want to blow another interaction with this gentleman. Not that you ever have before, you guess. You have a vague sense that you probably did disappoint this dad, and you have a very strong sense that you don't want to feel the looming gaze of his stern fatherly disapproval right now. You decide to do what you do best.

You scrutinize the mailbox with the intensity of someone who does not want to have a run-in with the dapper gentlemen over yonder. You're just a casual passerby on this sidewalk for all he's concerned. He seems pretty focused on the fridge on the ground, so you're in the clear.

Suddenly a lass is scampering right toward you. She is most certainly not John. Ah, you get it. This isn't John's house. This is just a house in the same geographical location as John's, inhabited by a fella who looks identical to John's dad and a young lady who looks a heck of a lot like John. Makes perfect sense.

The young lady in question stops when she gets close to you. It seems like she was running toward this mailbox, the entrance of which your body is shielding from her plucky grasp.

JANE: Oh.  
JANE: Are you the mailwoman?

Here we go again.

You offer an emphatic yes. You know how this goes. If you tell this girl you're the mailwoman she will become your friend in no time. Honestly, you could probably speedrun this shit.

JANE: Well, if you'll excuse me, I am here to retrieve my mail and I'm in a hurry!  
JANE: So, if you would be so kind as to move so that I may get my package...?

It seems as though the aforementioned lass, whose name is definitely Jane, really was in a hurry, as the mere moments she spent talking to you were enough for John's dad to rush over and sternly look down at her. Jane stomps on the ground, sort of like how a petulant toddler would act if she was denied something she really wanted. Based on his fatherly cadence you're starting to suspect maybe this guy is actually Jane's dad.

JANE: But DAAAAAD!  
JANE: I just need to collect the mail. I promise I'll be inside in a jiffy.

Jane's dad doesn't waver. He points at the door. The fatherliness this man exudes is liable to make your head spin.

Jane reluctantly walks back into her house, defeated in her quest to retrieve the mail. It dawns on you that she is just walking out of your life without so much as becoming your new friend! You can't stand for this. You make the rash, ill-advised decision to zap yourself into Jane's room.

You beat her there and get a chance to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. It looks like a bizarro version of John's room. You have a feeling you're going to be describing most things around here with that qualifier. Immediately your eyes are drawn to the bright red poster on Jane's door. You're pretty certain, based on context drawn from your prior knowledge and the calendar to your right, that this poster is for the new game Jane was so elated to receive in the mail. The poster is emblazoned with a little trident in the bottom corner.

Actually, the poster isn’t the thing with a fork on it. This room is covered in Betty Crocker merchandise. Everywhere you look you see the same shade of bright red, adorned with forks. Jane has a few posters which presumably outline her interests in a tidy and narratively conducive manner. A poster that catches your eye is one of two angry-lookin' dames, one wielding a menacing chainsaw and one with a cute teddy bear. It crosses your mind that these people look a lot like you. According to literally every human you've ever met, you aren't human. You obviously aren't a troll either. Maybe you're one of these species. You wonder whether you have a family of people who look like this who miss you, but whom you can't even remember. 

But this is no time for contemplating the repercussions of your pesky memory loss! Jane walks in the door in a huff. She slams it with more force than you would expect a lady of her caliber to slam a door.

She doesn't seem to notice you, which is good because if she did you would have to apologize for barging into her room without asking. She appears too upset to notice your intrusion. Jane sits down at her bright red computer and starts furiously messaging someone.

You can't help but sneakily look over her shoulder. Through copious pop-up ads for various foodstuffs, you’re able to read.

gutsyGumshoe [GG] began bothering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] at 1:11  
  
GG: Ugh!  
GG: Hey.  
GG: Ro-Lal?  
TG: oopos sry  
TG: was havin important chats  
GG: Oh?  
GG: With whom?  
TG: w yet anather ineligible fuckin bachelor who elfe i have to talk 2  
GG: Yeah.  
GG: Um... which one, precisely?  
TG: di stri  
TG: insmufferable prick mf'r extroariadinner  
TG: *lol wow  
TG: *extradinner  
TG: *heheh yum  
GG: If the chats and surplus dinners were truly important, I wouldn't want to interrupt.  
TG: tchhhh  
TG: of course not jus the usual bs  
TG: chats with u always get precedance anyways  
TG: unless this is more of u givin me shit about not believing me on all my sick tru facts  
GG: Enough about that!  
GG: Something horrible has happened!  
TG: o  
TG: go on..........  
GG: My dad just grounded me and now I can't retrieve the Sburb Alpha, which I am nigh certain is just waiting for me in the mailbox. :(  
GG: You see, my dad is worried that I will be the unsuspecting target of another assassination attempt if I go outside willy-nillyly.  
TG: willy nillylyly?  
GG: Yes. Willy-nillyly.  
TG: pardon the correrection crocks but isnt that a totitaly obvious gamer error  
TG: *grammer  
GG: No?  
GG: I wanted to describe the action of "going" outside as "willy-nilly" but, because willy-nilly is an adjective, I had derivate the appropriate adverb. An adverb is easily found by adding a "ly" to the end of most adjectives.  
TG: ya but  
TG: thats like a madeup wurd rite?  
TG: is it still garmartically correct if u make it up?  
TG: *gramatically  
GG: Hush! I'm not in the market to be corrected by the likes of you, missy.  
TG: fine  
TG: jus rly thros me 4 a loop when u fuck up so roayly  
TG: *roylaly  
TG: *rolally!!!!!!!!!!!  
TG: did i do good janay did i deride n adverb drom a ajective rite??  
GG: Actually, yes! You did very "well."  
TG: hehe <3  
GG: <3  
GG: I just wish my dad had the sense to trust that I'm going to be fine! He gets so paranoid at the drop of a hat.  
GG: I mean, not letting me check the stinking mail?? He's a veritable conspiracy theorist in so far as he reacts in the most ridiculous manner to his baseless paranoia.  
TG: its not exactlt baseless tho rite?  
TG: like u get almost assassassinated all the effing time  
GG: How would you feel if your mother never let you leave the house for fear that you would be killed by loony crackpots?  
TG: ...  
TG: idk not gr8?  
GG: Not great indeed!  
GG: Sigh. It wouldn't be so bad if his desire for my safety wasn't in direct contradiction with me playing the game to which we've all been so looking forward!  
GG: I imagine he will be vigilantly guarding the front door for the foreseeable future, so there's no chance I'll be able to sneak out again. :(  
TG: well janay ive got 1 piece o advice 4 u regourding this  
TG: i tkink ur gonna hafta suck it up and not play the game 2 WITCH wve all been looking forward to  
TG: n thats not a bad thing BC its tooootally a fuckin ploy by the batterwitch as ive been saying this whole fucking time  
TG: so think of it like its an expremely good thing ur not gonna get to play it!  
GG: The way things are going, Ro, I would not be surprised if your wish comes true.  
TG: hooray!!!  
TG: c this is awesome total blessing in disgusie u just didnt noice rite away  
TG: *notice  
GG: :/ I suppose.  
TG: k jane this was am amazing talk tell ur dad thanks 4 grounding u from moi ok?  
GG: P'cha!  
TG: so 2b absotuley clear  
TG: u r comptletely resoced not to play the game??  
TG: *resolved  
TG: u hav cum to terms w it and r prolly sad but ur like a-ok that its not gonna happne?  
TG: *typis  
TG: **typos  
GG: Well...  
GG: I was REALLY looking forward to it.  
GG: I guess there's no use in being glum. We can always play another day.  
GG: I so wanted to play today, though.  
GG: However, you're probably right. I really ought to move on.  
TG: YES!  
TG: jane u have no idea how happy this makes me!!!!  
TG: brb i gtg tell EVRYUONE that were NOT PKAYING!!!  
tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased bothering gutsyGumshoe [GG]  
tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began bothering gutsyGumshoe [GG]  
TG: OH SHIT  
TG: on last thing jane  
TG: DO NOT RUN THEFILE I SENT U  
TG: i need 2  
TG: uh  
TG: just dont ok  
tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased bothering gutsyGumshoe [GG]  


Jane slumps back in her chair. In a dramatic fit of teen-girl agnst, she exasperatedly sighs and covers her face with her hands. You can tell she’s pretty broken up about this whole affair with the game. Maybe you can quickly zap down to the mailbox and get it for--

JANE: Gasp!  
JANE: What are you doing here?!

Shoot. 

JANE: Are you here to… kill me?

What? No way! You tell her that of course you’re not here to kill her. You just lost your way on your mail route and wound up in her room. Yeah. That’s plausible. 

You deftly deflect any further question which that ridiculous excuse might engender and ask who Jane was just talking to.

JANE: Oh. How rude of me! I was just speaking to my bff Roxy.  
JANE: Hoo hoo! She's quite the silly girl. She's always making up fanciful stories about having some sort of supernatural teleportation power.

What? Teleportation power? That's fuckin' ridiculous. Absolute poppycock, that's what you say.

JANE: Exactly! She is extremely funny, though. A dear friend if I do say so myself.

Jane lingers on her last syllable, staring wistfully at her computer screen.

JANE: Well.  
JANE: I suppose there is no use prattling on wishing things could be different. I am grounded and that's that. I ought to make the best of the situation at hand!  


Jane walks to her bedroom door.

JANE: If you wouldn’t mind, ma’am, I think you ought to leave.  
JANE: I have yet to determine precisely how and why my neighborhood’s mail lady has invaded my bedroom without asking but I can’t fathom how your doing so could possibly be in good will.  
JANE: So, I think it’s high time you skedaddle!  


No!

You mean, not to sound pushy, but you ABSOLUTELY are here in good faith.

JANE: I find that hard to believe.  


Fuck. She’s starting to look quizzical. Downright aphrevensive, in fact! You have to think fast.

Uh. You have a great reason to be here! You wrack your brain trying to think of anything which would lend itself to this friendship not ending before it begins. You scour the room trying to find an activity that is likely to endear this girl to you.

You tell Jane that you had a singular objective when coming to this house which you definitely knew before arriving. You inform Jane that you came here because you wanted to...

> [Bake a cake with the one and only Jane Crocker.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260274/chapters/53157637#workskin)

> ~~Introduce Jane to all of her Internet friends in person.~~ (Future update.)


	2. Chapter 2

> Bake a cake.

In your panic-addled state, you resort to speaking effusively about the first thing in the viscidity that you think your soon-to-be-friend likes. You tell Jane that you knew about her baking prowess and wanted to watch how a master like herself bakes. Yep. That’s right. You’re a huge baking fan and you wanted to learn from the best.

JANE: Oh. Really?  
JANE: Well why didn't you just say so?!  
JANE: Now that I know you are here expressly because you know my identity, I am significantly less scared for my life!  


Perfect. Jane shouldn't be scared for her life, so it's great that she isn't.

JANE: Ha! That was a joke!  
JANE: Well, I suppose it wasn't because I believe I could best you in hand to hand combat fairly easily. What I MEAN is your professed motivation for breaking into my house being for the express purpose of watching me bake does not do much for your case.  
JANE: How am I to know whether or not you're an assassin?

An assassin?! Of course you're not an assassin. No way in heck are you here to kill her. You're a mailwoman, remember? Surely Jane doesn't think a harmless mailwoman such as yourself has enough time to moonlight as an assassin. You remind Jane that you’re here to bake a cake, which is, as far as you’re concerned, arguably the least like killing a kid of any activity ever. 

JANE: I would not put it past you. You did manage to suddenly appear in my bedroom without making so much as a single peep. That sure sounds like assassiny behavior if you ask me.  
JANE: Besides. I am grounded. Even if I wanted to bake a cake right now, I don't suppose I would be allowed to.  
JANE: Plus! My fridge is currently lawnbound. 

You tell Jane that you can make all of those problems go away with the snap of a finger. You super persuasively tell Jane that baking a cake with her would be really fun.

JANE: Hmm.  
JANE: I suppose if we were to sneak downstairs, and my father didn't notice, it wouldn't be too big of a deal. I wouldn't be leaving the house, after all. And he does so like it when I bake!

That's the spirit. You hold out your hands and say you are willing and able to employ your assassin-esque skill of moving about undetected for this purpose.

JANE: That won't be necessary! 

In an instant, Jane is nowhere to be seen. In her place stands a dapper, mustachioed gentleman.

Thanks to your lightning-fast logical reasoning skills you are able to figure out that this actually is Jane with a mustache and hat on.

JANE: Who is this Jane of whom you speak? I am world-renown fictional World War 1 era detective and former police chief, Hercule Poirot!  
JANE: (Pst.)  
JANE: (You can wear this one and be Inspector Jacques Clouseau.)

Jane surreptitiously hands you an admittedly less cute mustache, but you don it anyhow.

JANE: Esteemed Inspector, let us retire now to the kitchen wherein we will solve the case of the most delectable baked good. :P

Jane walks down the stairs. She diligently looks around a lot so as not to be spotted by her father. Once you two reach the last step on the staircase, Jane scampers into the kitchen. You scamper right after her and you are both relieved to see that the kitchen is in whatever the opposite of disarray is. Array? Undisarray? Does that mean everything is organized as one would expect? Who knows. You don't, that's for sure.

JANE: Alrighty, Inspector, let's get crackin'!

Jane opens a cabinet that is filled to the brim with red cake mix boxes. In fact, this kitchen doesn't so much look like a household kitchen as it does the baking aisle in a grocery store.

Jane pulls out one of what must be dozens of boxes of Betty Crocker Super Moist Yellow Cake Mix.

JANE: I sure hope you're not allergic to any of the following ingredients: Sugar, Water, Canola Oil, Citric Acid, Corn Starch, Palm Oil, Salt, Cellulose Gum, High Maltose Corn Syrup, Xanthan Gum, Potassium Sorbate, Partially Hydrogenated Cottonseed Oil, Modified Corn Starch, Diesters of Fatty Acids, Distilled Monoglycerides, Dicalcium Phosphate, Polysorbate 60, Propylene Glycol Mono, Sodium Acid Pyrophosphate, Sodium Stearoyl Lactylate, and Red 40.

There is a marked change in Jane's tone. Before, she was upset and frankly hostile. Subsequent to that her demeanor took on an endearing and goofy tone. Now, while she’s spouting the names of a bunch of unhealthy sounding ingredients, she sounds almost mechanical. Like she’s reading from a script.

You think those foods sound unhealthy but maybe they aren’t. You just buy into that old saying about not consuming foods whose names you can’t pronounce. Clearly Jane doesn’t have to worry about that aphorism, though, because she easily pronounced the names of all of those chemicals.

You try to think of fun engaging things to say to Jane to make her want to be your friend. In your efforts to do so you actually miss most of the baking process. It's pretty straightforward though. You mean, it's a cake made from a storebought mix. How complicated can it be?

JANE: Now, I'm sure you're wondering. "Jane, why ever do you have to add an egg? Isn't this a baking mix designed to be nigh effortless to make and subsequently consume? Isn't requiring that the intrepid baker in question add an egg adding unnecessary steps?

You just assumed it was because they couldn't put an egg in that cardboard box.

JANE: First of all, oughtn't you use the pronoun "you" when questioning the actions of the company colloquially known as Betty Crocker? After all, you are talking to the future heiress and poster child of the company. Hoo hoo!

An heiress, huh? You have a little bit of experience with those. You muse that Jane probably has big plans for changing the status quo of that which she is heiress to when she gets into power.

JANE: "That to which she is heiress"

What?

JANE: You said "that which she is heiress to," ending your clause with a preposition. The grammatically correct thing to say would be "that TO which she is heiress."

Oh. Noted.

JANE: Anyway, you were wondering why the Betty Crocker brand doesn't simply include all the necessary ingredients in each delicious box of Betty Crocker cake mix.

You weren't, but you shut your gab and let her explain anyway.

JANE: The answer is actually quite fascinating! You see, in 1956, BC's complete cake mixes weren't selling well. Due to stark competition and an otherwise disillusioned market of housewives who were newly enamored with the advent of the television and less so with baking, we were forced to take action to increase sales. The choice to include dried egg in cake mixes was actually a point of contention since the boxed cake mix's inception. Back in the beginning, Marjorie Husted resolved that the convenience factor was more important than the slightly better flavor which would no doubt be a byproduct of the consumer adding a fresh egg to their cake.  
JANE: However, when faced with the steady tapering of sales to American housewives in the mid-fifties, the then modern Crocker brand was forced to make the decision all over again. Considering even the most convenient of convenient complete cake mixes was not attracting consumers, it stood to reason that the only thing which could feasibly keep sales up would be a revamping of our delectable flavor. What better way to do this than using fresher ingredients? Like, say, fresh eggs? You see, it is most certainly more fun to bake when you feel like the finished product is something you made. By having simple and easily executable baking instructions, like "Add an Egg," Betty Crocker allows its customers to take ownership of their culinary creations. This practice is now rather run of the mill. Or, should I say, run of the GENERAL Mill. Hoo hoo hoo!

At this point you are not surprised by Jane's unreserved love of Betty Crocker. You're just happy that she's having such a good time. You can't help but wonder whether baking day in and day out gets old after a while, especially for Jane who seems completely resigned to the fact that baking will be an inexorable part of her life forever.

JANE: Goodness, no!  
JANE: Because each member of the Betty Crocker family of products is designed with the baker in mind, it is always a joy to bustle down in the kitchen and whip up something wonderful! If anything, the final product is the proverbial "icing" on the "cake" that is making the darned things!

You can tell she is passionate about the brand, but frankly, you didn't ask how the general public feels about baking prefab cakes from cardboard boxes. Nor how Betty Crocker's PR team would like people to think about how fun it is to pour powder in a bowl and add water, olive oil, and an economically necessary egg. You asked how the girl in front of you feels about it. Does Jane really enjoy it, or does she just feel like she has to?

JANE: Oh.  
JANE: Do I enjoy it?  
JANE: Well, I can't say anyone has ever asked me that.

Jane continues stirring as she contemplates your admittedly simple question.

JANE: Why wouldn't I?

Who knows. You're sure there are lots of reasons why a person who is predestined from birth to fill a specific role might not enjoy doing so.

JANE: Huh.

Jane pours the now mixed batter into a pre-greased tin, which she must have greased while you were thinking about how to win her over. 

Jane pops the cake tin in the oven.

JANE: Um. Anyhoo! Now we just have to wait 30-35 minutes or until we can stick a toothpick in the center and watch it come out as clean as it went in.  
JANE:...

This 30-35 minutes seems to you like a prime opportunity to ask Jane some friendship-conducive questions. You ask Jane what she plans on doing when she becomes the sole proprietor of the Crocker brand.

JANE: Well I come up with new things every day! Just little things I would tweak to make the company even better than it already is.  
JANE: It would be quite the waste of my time to think about changing things too much, though. With our 100 year legacy, I trust that my predecessors had their wits about them during their respective reigns. I foresee my role being one of maintenance more than of drastic reimagining.  
JANE: I did like the old spoon logo, though, so I probably will revert back to that when I take up the mantel.

This is going nowhere. You don’t want to hear these premeditated speeches over and over! You want to hear what the REAL JANE thinks.

You spend the next 30-35 minutes trying to crack her like an egg, if you will. Eventually, your fruitless efforts to get her to open up to you are interrupted by the dinging of a timer.

Jane deftly puts on two bright red oven mitts and removes the cake from the oven. Just as she said she would, Jane sticks a toothpick in. It comes out clean as a whistle.

JANE: Hooray!

You would think such a thing would be a very minor achievement for someone like Jane who presumably bakes often, but she seems elated to see that the cake is fully baked through.

JANE: Now we have to wait 15 minutes or until completely cool before going onto the decoration phase.  
JANE: Decorating is my favorite part. Where every other aspect of baking, especially when one is employing Betty Crocker products, is so simple and predetermined, decorating is a time when you can get creative. With baking, unlike cooking, there is little room for making the creation one's own. Everything has to be diligently measured in order for the rising agents to work properly and create an actual cake rather than a yucky mess.  
JANE: But, with decorating, any prescribed rules can be thrown out the window! You needn't conform to a strict recipe. You can do whatever your heart desires!  
JANE: I quite like that about baking Betty Crocker cake. Though they all start out the same, the final product is the result of the hard work and dedication of the baker.  
JANE: No two cakes are ever quite the same despite coming from the same humble beginnings!  
JANE: That really is my favorite part about baking. The fact that this generic box can be transformed into something so wonderful and unique.  
JANE: It's a really comforting thought. A box of cake mix is a wealth of potentiality. It may seem like there is only one right way to bake but truthfully any cake contains within it the potential to be something incredible.  
JANE: I suppose those are only cosmetic differences, though. It's still the same cake at the end of the day.  
JANE: ...  
JANE: ANYHOO! Let's get our frosting ready.  
JANE: Any instructions you read will tell you to apply the icing once the cake is totally cool, but, and don't tell anyone I told you this, I like to slap it on just before it's reached room temperature. This way the frosting, especially if you're using a from-scratch butter or cream cheese frosting, will spread on silkily smooth and your risk of tattering the cake layer with your spreading knife lowers significantly.  
JANE: A word to the wise: if you are using a fondant, DON'T DO THIS. In such cases, you should follow the rules and wait until the cake has cooled down completely.  


Jane starts to fill a piping bag with Betty Crocker Rich and Creamy White Vanilla Frosting, both of which she manifested seemingly out of thin air.

Once she has filled the bag to the brim with frosting, she hovers her hand above the cake. Seemingly satisfied with whatever she learned from doing that, Jane uses a really big knife to cut the top off of the cake.

JANE: It's very important to do this in order to create a flat surface for your design. You see, it is a very common occurrence for the cake to rise above the pan. This may seem like a fault of the manufacturer or a failure by the baker to choose a pan of the correct size, but it's actually an asset! After all, it wouldn't be so easy to create a clean flat surface if there wasn't a bit of excess to chop off!  
JANE: Plus, it allows for a lovely mid-bake snack!

Jane takes a bit of the to-be-discarded cake top and pops it in her mouth. She seems to performatively react to how tasty it is.

JANE: Mmm! Scrumptious!

Jane uses a bright red spoon to thinly spread Betty Crocker Rich and Creamy White Vanilla Frosting on the cake. She does this so fast that it almost looks robotic.

Suddenly Jane has the piping bag again and she is dolloping little white roses on the rim of the cake. Her precision and accuracy are extraordinary. Truly, Jane seems like a baking master. She totally rocks.

JANE: You know what, you're right! I DO rock!  
JANE: Thank you for baking with me, miss. You've really gotten my mind off of all this game nonsense.  
JANE: Truth be told, I was so looking forward to it because one of my friends made it seem like the game would facilitate our meeting.  
JANE: She also made it clear that she thought the game was a ploy by the ephemeral Betty Crocker herself to off me, but I never heed such unsubstantiated claptrap.  
JANE: I suppose it was rather foolish of me to believe that a simple computer game would facilitate meeting someone who lives all the way in New York!  
JANE: Maybe it's for the best, though.  
JANE: That is to say, I'm not sure I would be able to diligently focus on my future with friends around to distract me.

Whoa whoa whoa. No need to be rash. Friends are great!

JANE: I'm not so sure. They consistently cause drama, honestly. Come to think of it, maybe my life would be better if I had no friends!  
JANE: I might go so far as to say they cause me more stress than they do comfort.  
JANE: Sure, they are kind and they mean well, but it is a lot of work maintaining their respective friendships!  
JANE: You don’t know them, but believe me, they are a rowdy bunch. And sure, they have been there for me during trying times, but they have most certainly caused great strife as well!  
JANE: They have quite possibly caused me MORE grief than they have happiness over the years.  
JANE: I think it's settled! Thank you miss mail lady. I think I will be better off going forward with a laser focus on what really matters. Adroitly baking cakes and taking up the mantle of CEO in just two years, five months, and three days.  
JANE: As you yourself said, I am quite exceptional at doing this! It would be a waste for me to do anything but bake for the rest of my life.   
JANE: Why, I have so many responsibilities after all! Maybe it was folly on my part thinking I could juggle friendships in tandem with all the other irons I have in the fire.  


As she speaks, she seems to grow more and more agitated. She starts aggressively using a little can which is filled with blue cake icing. She continues to place little dollops on the cake, but her movements are less controlled. 

You tell Jane that OF COURSE she can juggle having friends while being a big wig CEO! Honestly, you think it would probably be difficult not to go insane not having any friends yet having such big responsibilities.

JANE: Hoo hoo! My, I'm not so sure you'd be saying that if you knew my friends.  
JANE: I'm liable to go insane WITH them as my friends! Hoo hoo hoo!  
JANE: My friends are good people, I suppose, but they are just ineffectual as FRIENDS, you know?  
JANE: Once you give them an inch they take a mile. And then they'll just keep taking and taking until you're but a husk of your former self.

Jeez.

JANE: This is actually really freeing! I don't have any obligation to those three at all!  
JANE: Truly, I can't thank you enough! To think I was going to bash your head in with a serving spoon when we first met. Hoo hoo!  
JANE: As a thank you for helping me realize how much better my life will be when I excommunicate every friend I've ever had, please accept this gift!

Jane twirls around and shows you a white cake with... Mallek's symbol on it? It's a really good approximation, especially considering she only had your rumpled hoodie as a reference.

JANE: Why don't we eat this together as a toast of sorts.  
JANE: To gleeful solitude for the betterment of corporate progress!

To... gleeful solitude for the betterment of corporate progress, you guess.

You take a bite of the cake. It is positively scrumptious as you're sure it's touted on the box. Jane looks really happy while she's eating it. You get the sense that she isn't as happy as she seems, though. She is still in this outwardly chipper mode which sounds extraordinarily rehearsed.

You can't help but feel as if this was a catastrophic failure. You take another bite of the really good cake.

...Good End?

> [Try again?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260274/chapters/53157628)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This was incredibly fun to write and I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
